Playwright: Score by Galt MacDermot; book and lyrics by Gerome Ragni and James Rado
At: Tonkawa Theatre Tribe at the Lakeshore Theater, 3175 N. Broadway
Contact: ( 773 ) 472-3492, www.tonkawatheatretribe.com
Through: Open Run
'Don't trust anyone over 30!' went the mantra of the late 1960s. But now Hair, emblematic musical of the era, is almost 40.
So how is it that the Tonkawa Theatre Tribe production of the show isn't a laughable relic about the trippy, dippy hippy youth of people now eligible for AARP membership?
After all, the last revival of Hair in these parts ( despite prodigious financing by former owner of Oak Brook Michael Butler ) , was a silly mess.
Clearly, money can't buy relevance. What Hair needs is a cast that radiates non-stop, bone-authentic authenticity, intensity and passion. And that is exactly what the Tonkawa Theatre Tribe delivers.
The Tonkawaians ( the name comes from a Native American word translating loosely to 'we all stay together' ) are performing at the Lakeshore Theatre, after selling out runs at several much smaller spaces.
From Hair's initial clarion call to the blessed-out Age of Aquarius ( a gorgeous, siren-song of an opening volley delivered by Isaiah Robinson ) , it's clear that something marvelous is about to unfold.
At the Lakeshore, Hair is mostly marvelous, with one significant caveat: The sound design in the cavernous space must be overhauled ( Tonkawa Artistic Director Lloyd Campbell planned to do just that last week ) in order to prevent the on-stage rock band from overpowering the vocalists. Body mikes would be an excellent investment.
Hair's music ( Galt MacDermot ) and lyrics ( James Rado and Gerome Ragni ) span the emotional spectrum from joyful, good-morning-star-shininess to rip-your-heart-out-and-stomp-all-over-it anguish. There's the glorious, gleeful affirmation of 'Manchester, England England,' the operatic, unexpected hilarity of 'Sodomy,' the concentrated urgency of 'Where Do I Go,' and the flesh-crawling horror of 'Three-Five-Zero-Zero.'
Despite the acoustic troubles, all this fury of feeling comes through.
Set in 1968, Hair centers on a tribe of free-loving drop-outs.
Disillusioned with the world of their parents, they celebrate the gospel of individualism and revel in peace, love and grooviness while trying to negotiate a thicket of sexual desires without getting hung up.
But even when Jupiter aligns with Mars, hang-ups are inevitable. Hearts are seared by unrequited yearning. Brains are confused by the horrific fact that the U.S. is bombing parts of Southeast Asia back to the stone age. Bodies shake in spasms of fear at the specters of a bad trip.
The raw passion the cast displays never lets up, yet within this fire-breathing ensemble, several players stand out. As Woof, Brad Davis is platinum-haired angelic presence barely disguising the devil inside. Steve Tomlitz, as the doomed Claude, projects tormented, messianic figure whose voice soars with gale-force power.
And with 'Frank Mills,' a plaintive, poignant song of patiently waiting for something that you may never find again, Sarah Rice delivers a heart-breaker for the ages.